


Manrann's On The Affectionate Nature of Veela

by Manrann



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:15:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27487900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Manrann/pseuds/Manrann
Summary: A series of scenes and oneshots, set in the Affectionate Veela universe. Expect Fluff. Lots of it. And some angst, some hurt/comfort and a bunch of other stuff too, I suppose. But mostly Fluff.
Relationships: Fleur Delacour/Harry Potter
Comments: 1
Kudos: 28





	1. The End of a Year

**Author's Note:**

> As stated in the (admittedly rambly) summary, this is the first scene of however many I write set in the Affectionate Veela universe, a setting/AU created on the Flowerpot Discord.  
> Link: https://discord.gg/Np2zjAH
> 
> Feel free to hop on. We're a growing and extremely active community, created to promote the Harry/Fleur ship in any way that we can. There are amazing writers and betas on there, with wonderful fan art spaces and the best prompts for the pairing I have seen. Even if you don't feel like writing, we'd love to have you just to chat.
> 
> That's the end of the promoting. Without much further ado, I present to you Affectionate Veela.

Fleur’s first thought when she awoke was that the bed was cold. Too cold.

Her hand snaked out from under the covers as she groped for the warm, totally huggable body that she hoped would be there.

All it met were empty sheets.

Her cuddle pillow was missing.

That woke her up.

She sat up in the bed, silvery hair in a messy tangle as she blinked, looking around through bleary eyes, glancing about her room in the Beauxbatons carriage.

“‘Arry?”, She said, her voice heavy with sleepiness.

The sheets were rumpled, but cold. He’d been gone a while.

She pouted, and got out of bed, putting on a sweater to better ward off the Scottish chill.

He’d better have a good reason for getting out of bed that early or so help her Morgana she was going to tie him to the bed so that he couldn't leave. Maybe she could use a sticking charm to stick him to her instead?

She started to drool a bit, the thought of cuddling her Harry the whole day sent her to her happy place for a few minutes.

Then her brain came up with another scenario. A truly horrible one.

What if one of those bitches from his school had tried to get their hooks into him by kidnapping him in the morning?! The Veela in her snarled in rage at the thought of anyone else touching her mate. If they had she would… she would…. she didn't know yet but it wouldn't be pretty!

A part of her mind, the one that knew she was overreacting, sighed in exasperation. Where was Harry when she needed him?

Fleur spotted something out of the corner of her eye as she paced furiously about her room, blue flames crackling in her hands as she seethed. Glancing out the window, she spotted a lone, raven-haired figure in the predawn light.

“Oh.”

He was sitting on the grass when she reached him, feet spread out, leaning back on his elbows as he stared out over the lake, the sun just about peeking out from beyond the horizon, the light of dawn causing the lake’s surface to shimmer and sparkle.

“‘Arry?”

He started, head whipping around. As soon as he spotted her, he relaxed, emerald eyes turning warm as his face split into a smile, one that made him look just so damn _huggable_ , it was all Fleur could do not to tackle him to the ground and never let him go.

Instead, she sat down next to him on the ground, shivering slightly as the wet, cold grass touched the bare skin of her palms. Absently, she leaned into his shoulder as she stared out across the horizon. His hand came up around her shoulder on instinct, pulling her just a bit closer. She sighed contentedly, her own arm coming up to wrap around his waist as she burrowed into his side.

They sat together in companionable silence, staring out over the vast expanse of the Black Lake, sleep’s haze slipping from their minds as they held each other, watching the sun come up.

“‘Arry?”

“Hm?”

“What are you worried about?”

He turned to face her, surprised, “How did you...”

She giggled at the sight of his face, before leaning in to peck him on the cheek. His cheeks tinted pink after her lips lifted, and she giggled again.

It was always fun getting him to blush.

“I know you ‘Arry. I mean, how could I not, considering we spend literally every night wrapped up in each other.”

He hummed in acquiescence, nodding as he added, “And most of the day too.”

Fleur smiled, “And most of the day too. So, as I said, I know you pretty well. And I can tell when you’re worrying. Because you do it a lot.”

Harry opened his mouth, then paused, before smiling sheepishly, “I suppose I do, don't I?”

She nodded sagely, “Yes, I am. So talk, or you’re not getting cuddles today.”

“You do know that's not a very good threat right?”, he replied, “considering that you’d cave nearly immediately and latch onto me like a limpet.”

She pouted at that, “But it's not my fauuult. You’re just too huggable!”

Harry chuckled at her response, his chest vibrating in a way that sent pleasant tingles through Fleur’s body.

She snuggled in closer.

He stopped though, his face turning sombre as he watched the waters, “It's just… did you know I arrived at Hogwarts this year wishing for just one normal year, where nothing bad happens, and I could just… be a kid? No possessed teachers, or ancient beasts or mass murdering criminals out for me. To just… be Harry, not the Boy-Who-Lived, or the Heir of Slytherin, or any one of the other titles I’m sure I’ve accumulated.”

Harry snorted derisively, shaking his head, messy raven locks bouncing in a way that made Fleur want to pet them soooo badly.

She just tightened her hold.

“I don't know why I actually expected to have a normal year. I’m Harry fucking Potter. Fate doesn't _let_ me do normal. And sure enough, the Triwizard tournament came along!”

“It's a tournament meant for _three_ champions, one from each of the schools. So of course I was made the fourth champion. I had to deal with most of the school turning on me, _again_ , the papers vilifying me and my best friend not believing me. I also had to swim to a bloody merfolk village under the Black Lake in _February_ , when the waters are cold enough to freeze your bollocks off, had to learn to dance for the Yule ball, - “

“Wait a minute”, Fleur interjected, her eyes narrowed as she raised her head to meet his eyes, “Are you saying you _didn't_ enjoy my teaching?”

He spluttered denials for a few seconds, before spotting the grin that she now wore.

Shaking his head, he pressed his lips to the top of her head, “The teaching was wonderful. I mean, I was taught by Fleur Delacour, you know. It was the actual having to learn that I didn't enjoy. At first.”

She hmmed, “Nice Save.”

“I do try. Now, where was I… oh yeah, I had to learn to dance - ”

“Don't forget the dragons.”

“Oh yeah. WHO THE FUCK MAKES TEENAGERS FIGHT DRAGONS? There’s a reason people train their entire lives to deal with them, but no, seventeen year olds should be able to handle it! Oh, how about we bring in nesting dragons and have the task be that the champion has to _take a fucking egg_. I’m sure nothing will ever go wrong! Bloody fucking retards! And of course, being the youngest champion, I got the _most fucking deadly one_. I swear, sometimes I feel like fate has it out for me.”

“Papa always did say that British Wizards lacked common sense.”

“Your dad sounds like a wise man Fleur.”

“He is. You’ll be able to see firsthand when you meet him, of course.”

Harry blinked, “You know, I think I'd rather face the Horntail again.”

She swatted his arm, “Jerk.”

“Your jerk.”

She grabbed the arm that he had wrapped around her, clutching it to her breasts, “Yes. And don't you ever forget it.”

He chuckled, and she felt the tingles run through her again.

Damn. She had it _bad_.

And she didn't even care.

They sat there for a few more moments, before Harry spoke up once more, his tone sad, “And then… there was the maze. Seeing you attacked by Krum… At that moment, I wanted to kill him, Fleur. I wanted him to hurt, I wanted to kill him slowly _because he tried to hurt you_.”

Her breath caught in her throat as he continued, “And then… the graveyard. Watching Cedric die, watching the light leave his eyes as I looked on, unable to do _anything_. Watching as Pettigrew took may blood, watching as _he_ came back to life, _fighting_ him?”

He turned to look at her, and the haunted look in his eyes nearly broke her heart.

“It was terrifying. Fighting him made it feel so real, Fleur. It was when I realised that he was back, and that he would kill me. No matter what it took, he would kill me. I should have died, that night, in the graveyard. I would have, if not for my luck… and for you.”

Fleur blinked at that.

“When I was facing him, when the spells started to fly, I realised… I realised how much it would hurt you if I died. And suddenly, I had a reason to fight. To _live_. For you.”

Both of Harry’s arms moved, wrapping her in a hug as he whispered, “I love you, Fleur Delacour. I love you so much it hurts, not being with you even for a moment. I love you so much that I want you to stay far, _far_ away from the absolute mess that is my life, but at the same time, I love you so much that I don't want you to ever leave. It scares me Fleur, the thought of you getting hurt, or worse, when the war starts. It is literally my worst nightmare. The thought of not seeing you again - ”

His words were cut off by a pair of lips smashing into his own, pushing him back to lie on the grass as Fleur rolled on top of him, her hands threading through his hair as his slipped down to her waist. Her tongue slipped into his mouth, dancing with his own as she poured out all of herself into the kiss, and he reciprocated.

When they finally broke apart, panting, she touched her forehead to his, cerulean eyes locking with his emerald ones as she whispered, “I love you too, Harry Potter. I love you so much. And don't you ever forget it.”

He stared into her eyes, his piercing green irises seeming to look into her very soul, searching, seeking.

Whatever he was looking for, he apparently found it, his shoulders relaxing as he raised his head to claim her lips once again, his breath ghosting across her lips as he replied, his words causing her heart to race as their lips met.

“I know.”

She pushed off him abruptly, leaning back so that she was straddling his waist, causing him to blink with shock as he looked at her, puzzled.

She giggled. He had the cutest expressions when he was confused.

She got to her feet, dragging him up to his own by the arm as she set off towards the Beauxbatons carriage, dragging him behind her, “You reminded me that the schools are leaving in two days. And if I’m going to be forced to go without my cuddle pillow for a few weeks, you’d better believe I’m not letting you go for the next two days. Now come on. My bed is waiting, and _I wanna cuddle!”_

Harry laughed as he let her pull him to the carriage, “I’m not saying no to that!”


	2. Bring me Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't Fluff. Just saying

The elder wand arced through the air, spinning as his hand came out, reflexively, barely cognisant of his actions, as it settled in his grip.

For all Harry could see was the pale skinned, noseless, _inhuman_ face of the body across from him, the light leaving those malevolent red eyes, once sharp jewels of Hatred and fear, now gazing blankly, almost at peace, as the body they belonged to fell.

To Harry, it appeared to fall slowly, almost as if it was sinking through water. Black robes fluttering, white, serpentine arms bare, hands slightly open, as if grasping at the last vestiges of its ebbing existence. A large hole decorated the center of its torso, the edges of the black clothing frayed and torn jaggedly around it, framing the red blood decorating once immaculate pale skin, the gaping wound, the cause of death, open to the cool nighttime air.

For a mere second, the world seemed to hold its breath. And then, all at once, the breath was released, and sound rushed back in.

Death Eaters shouting and screaming in denial and fear, the defenders roars and exclamations of victory and freedom, the dying vestiges of fighting, the crackling of flames and groans of the castle and the wind whistling through the corridors and windows and the groan of collapsing rubble and it was all so _much._

Yet, Harry heard none of it. His legs buckled under him, and he collapsed onto his knees, emerald eyes glassy, staring yet unseeing, his gaze a million yards away.

Dully, he glanced down at his hands. Grimy, bloody, gripping two pieces of wood that thrummed with power. In his right, his trusty rod of holly, the phoenix feather in its core singing in glory and exultation. In his left, the long, beaded wood of the Elder Wand, that had been clutched in the hand of the body across from him in the courtyard. It thrummed with power, with whispered promises and false hopes. 

He couldn't help but despise it, at that moment. Not merely what it was, what it had done, but what it represented. Power? Mastery of death? He scoffed. The quest of one man for the very same things had led to decades of fear and pain and death and hatred, a world torn asunder by the lust for immortality and an uprising for dominance.

That had ended today. Three generations, fifty years, and too many deaths later.

He blinked as what he had done finally sunk in.

Not that he had taken a life. He’d done it before, and as he had each time, he felt a sickening disgust at himself. But it mattered not. This time, it was unavoidable. This time, it was necessary.

This time, he could let go of the guilt.

No, what finally sunk it was the finality. He had done it. It was over. The deaths of his mother and his father and Dumbledore and Fred and Cedric and the innumerable others who had fallen in the madman’s crusade had not been in vain.

At last, they could finally rest, at peace.

And he could finally let their weight off his shoulders.

Yet, as he let their burden go, a single thought struck him, a spear that brought his peace shattering down.

What about _him_?

What was he going to do? Where was he going to go? What was his meaning? His purpose?

His life, from before his birth to this day, in the courtyard of the ancient castle that was the school where he had truly _lived_ had been defined by and centered around the inhuman corpse he could no longer bring himself to look at, the _Dark Lord_ that had terrorised the only world he had truly considered his own.

And now, that his duty was done, that his fight was won, he felt more lost than ever before.

Suddenly, two arms wrapped themselves around his shoulders, and he tensed, momentarily, fingers deftly positioning the wands in his hands to usable positions, his grip tightening around their grips.

Then familiar silvery blond hair fell across his sight as he felt the head they belonged to nuzzle gently across the back of his own, and he relaxed into the embrace of his firebird, his love, his Fleur.

“Its over, ‘Arry”, She whispered, as her head travelled lower to tuck itself into the curve of his neck from behind, nose nuzzling into the side of his neck, soft, pouty lips ghosting across his pulse point, “You’ve done eet. We’ve won. We’re free.”

Tears pricked at his eyes as he nodded jerkily. “I know.”

It was all he could bring himself to say.

The svelte figure wrapped around him shifted, moving around to his front, as her cerulean blue eyes stared into his emerald ones, shining with unshed tears, her wonderful, gorgeous face projecting worry. For what they’d lost. For what came next .For _him_.

Gods above, he _loved_ her.

She kneeled in front of him, blocking the corpse from his sight at long last, as she pulled him close, holding his head in her embrace, dainty fingers caressing his head, nimbly running through his hair, teasing the dirty locks, matted with blood and grime, apart. She shushed him as tremors wracked his frame, and her grip only tightened when his arms came up to wrap around her, clutching at her like a lifeline.

“Shhhh”, Fleur whispered, her voice soft, comforting, _safe_. “It eez over. You can let it out now. Just let it out, and we can go home.”

He nodded again, as the tears finally broke free of their confines, sobs shaking him as he cried, for the life he had led, for those who had their cut short, for the pain and the loneliness and the despair and the sorrow and the fear and the loss.

There, they knelt, in the courtyard of the ruins of what had once been a bastion of safety and learning, surrounded by the combatants of a war that had gone on for too long, a war that had finally been ended, the corpse of the monster who perpetrated it cooling metres away, as the tactile veela held the incomprehensible hero, her love, her mate, as he finally let the burdens and scars of eighteen hard years wash away.

And when he was done, she would bring him home. But till then, she held him, lovingly, gently.

And none would disturb them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that was definitely.... a thing. Don't quite know where it came from, but there it is. You're welcome.

**Author's Note:**

> And that's the end of that. Feel free to drop a review and let me know if I've messed anything up.  
> For more works set in the Affectionate Veela universe, look up DavidTheAthenai's On the Affectionate Nature of Veelas, a Study by Harry James Potter


End file.
